


Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

by foreveryours



Category: Mollock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: Crime, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreveryours/pseuds/foreveryours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panic flooded over Molly. Five words. That’s all it took. All it ever needed to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where It All Begins

Panic flooded over Molly. Five words. That's all it took. All it ever needed to take. She looked down at her phone that had buzzed. She was in the morgue working, she rarely got texts from anyone which is why she was curious to see who it was.

Help me Molly it's urgent. - SH

A loud clatter of medical instruments falling to the floor erupted around her. She ran as fast as she could, out the door, down the halls and into the city, trying her best to hail a cab and get to 221B Baker Street. 

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm here, what's wrong, what do you need?" She questioned in a flurry, the words just passing for intelligible as her eyes scattered around him and their surroundings looking for a clue as to what might be wrong.

The place was a mess, although that wasn't too unusual. Papers strewn across the floor, faint smell of cigarette smoke and a kettle singing loudly in the background. Nothing too out of the ordinary though.

"Nothing is wrong Molly. I just need your help." He said as a matter of factually.

"You said it was urgent Sherlock!" She stated with disbelief and frustration that she had dropped everything, literally, to be here.

"It is urgent. Kind of. John and Mary are away and there's a case that I need your help with."

"It could have waited until I had finished work though, Sherlock!"

"Don't be ridiculous, this is far more important than anything you must be doing."

"What?! What could be so important that you need me right now, right this second?!" She said her hands on her hips waiting for an answer. Sherlock noted that she definitely was far more frustrated than he expected. He took a slight step back wary of her when she was in this mood ever since she slapped him...three times.

"This case is a high number and although I am positively sure I can do it on my own I need someone to marvel at me while i'm doing so. It helps."

Molly stood there in shock at what she had just heard. Surely not. Surely Sherlock wouldn't be dragging her along merely so he had someone to impress?

"Sherlock are you sure that's the reason?" She asked hoping that it wasn't.

"What other logical reason would there be?" He questioned back, obviously finding it ridiculous that Molly would ask such a question

"I don't know, maybe you need my expertise help in something, need a partner in disguise, or a womanly touch with this certain case."

"The fact is that you, yes you, don't know, as you said. I have already surpassed your skills long ago Molly. No disguises are needed for this case, I have no idea what gave you that impression, can you see any costumes hanging up? and if I needed a womanly touch I think you would be the last person that came to mind for that."

Her heart sank a little as his words cut through her. Sherlock noticed this but all too late. He began to apologise when she raised her hand to stop him.

"It's fine Sherlock. You didn't mean it personally but you also need to watch yourself."

Clearly this wasn't going too well. She was frustrated and now he unintentionally insulted her. She sighed trying to move past his harsh words. "What's the case?"

"A gentleman came over yesterday inquiring about his husband. I've invited him here today to get the full details of what happened."

A singular buzz sounded from the door "Speak of the devil." Sherlock said, clapping his hands together as his moved to position his chair, just right, angled ever so slightly away from the door. Molly saw that Sherlock made no move to welcome his guest. She rolled her eyes, what else could she expect from Sherlock? She opened the door and greeted the man with a kind smile. He was good looking, not too young, in his forties with grey hair. He certainly was a silver fox. "Ahh Hello Mr. St. Clair, do sit down. This is Molly."

She gave a small wave. "Tea or coffee Mr. St. Clair?"

"Yes, please. Milk no you, Miss Molly." He said smiling at her. His voice was deep. She would have never of known that he had a husband if Sherlock hadn't informed her. Maybe she was just a tad guilty of stereotyping.

"Coffee, Molly." Sherlock said. Molly nodded in response while she prepared the hot drinks. It would seem that was all she was useful for when it came to Sherlock Holmes and his unsolvable cases.

Once formalities had passed and hot drinks were ready Molly sat in the seat next to Sherlock like she had done the last time he had asked her to accompany him on a case. She pulled out her handy notebook while sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear. Mr. St. Clair watched Molly curiously and smiling once again when he caught her eye.

"So Mr. St. Clair do enlighten us."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, my husband, Neville, he's an honest man, a respectable businessman and he's just disappeared."

"Yes you informed me of that yesterday. I asked you whether or not you thought him as kidnapped, you said no as his phone, laptop, wallet, a few suits and old clothes were missing along with an overnight bag. I then asked you if you thought it was a possibility to whether or not your husband had simply left you, again you said no due to him leaving a note telling you that he would be back in a few days with a gift for Harrison, your adopted son. You said there was something more."

Molly remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt or get in the way. She scribbled down things that she felt could be important to the case. The items Neville had taken. Suits and old clothes, why not normal new clothes, why were they specifically old? Why leave a note saying you were getting a gift? All these questions crossed Molly's mind, knowing that they had probably crossed Sherlock's mind too and had already been answered as well.

"I saw him, not too long ago Mr. Holmes. Walking into a two star hotel in a rough part of the city near the Thames."

"Are you sure it was him and not just your desperate imagination trying to deny that your husband could be gone?" Sherlock replied cynically.

"I'm sure of it Mr. Holmes. I swear it was him. I walked in after him and the hotel said they hadn't any guest under his name and seen no one like him but I'm telling you I know my husband anywhere. There's something wrong."

"Yes it's quite peculiar that your husband a wealthy business man would stay in a rough two star hotel when he has more than the means to stay anywhere he pleases." Sherlock wondered aloud.

"Mr. Holmes you have to help me." Mr. St. Clair pleaded, leaning ever so slightly forward in his chair, eyes round and almost glistening.

There was a pregnant pause in the air as Sherlock debated helping Mr. St. Clair, Molly stared at Sherlock waiting to see what he would choose. "Very well. I'll look into it and report back to you if I find anything. Good day." Sherlock announced as he stood, leaving towards his bedroom, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Mr. St. Clair and Molly were alone. She felt nervous and awkward, she didn't know what quite to say except to apologise for Sherlock's behaviour. No sympathy, no empathy, no feeling. Although that was to be more than expected when Sherlock had a case. Feelings were disadvantages to Sherlock. She didn't believe it though. Sherlock always seemed to work best when he was feeling something whether it be fear or empathy towards someone. He hid it well but Molly could see.

"I'm sorry, Mr. St. Clair, Sherlock can be quite...well you saw. He's honestly a very good man and the very best at his work." She flustered out trying to find some excuse for Sherlock's behaviour.

"It's quite alright Miss Molly." flashing a bright smile at her as he stood to leave. "I know he's the best that's why I came. I trust him, even if he can be quite...well you know."

"Thank you for coming." She said as she showed him out. She thought about him smiling at her, for someone who's husband was missing he didn't seem to be that distraught as she would have thought, maybe it was just men and them always hiding their feelings, maybe it was just him being polite. That must be it she thought.


	2. Before It Could Begin It Ends

Molly was again at Sherlock’s home, he had invited Mr. St. Clair over again to review some evidence that Sherlock had gained. 

“Ahh Mr. St. Clair, please do sit down, I’ll be with you in a minute. I found something you might be quite interested in.” Sherlock said, directing him to the empty chair, as he went into his bedroom to collect the evidence. His bedroom was a mess, Molly had informed them that if they were to work on the case together he must keep his papers confined to his room. 

“Would you like any tea, Mr. St. Clair?” Molly asked as she moved to the kitchen to make herself and Sherlock some. It was almost rude to not offer tea to a guest, plus it seemed to be one thing that she could actually do without cocking it up. 

“No thank you, Miss Molly.” He answered. 

There was an awkward silence in the air along with the quiet clatter of cutlery clashing together whilst they waited for Sherlock to return. 

“How’s your day been Miss Molly?” Mr. St. Clair, asked. 

In the room, mere metres away from Molly and Mr. St. Clair, Sherlock sieved through papers, piles and piles of papers, stacked high as they could without possibly toppling over. He groaned in defeat as he realised he should have found the evidence promptly before Mr. St. Clair had arrived. 

When Molly looked over to Mr. St. Clair after disposing her spoon in the sink, she found him oddly enough still standing, staring at her. His stare was intense and curious, a look that she had only previously seen on one man before Mr. St. Clair, Moriarty. Molly suddenly felt very small. She lent against the kitchen cabinets as she cradled her cup of tea. She became flustered under his gaze, trying to look anywhere else or think of something to fill the ever growing gap, Where the hell was Sherlock?

Slowly Mr. St. Clair walked over to her, similarly to a large cat stalking its kill. Molly was frozen in fear. He reached her side and effortlessly, silently, and insanely on his end he wrapped one hand around her waist as the other hand caressed her cheek. His hand were icy, his grip far too tight around her petite waist. A shudder erupted through her body like lightening striking a tree in disgust at this vile man, he however completely misread the shudder as something caused by attraction and pleasure. 

What do you do in these circumstances? Her mind screamed to push him away, call him out, run away, but she couldn’t, she couldn't even breathe at this second let only move a single muscle. His stare intensified if that was even possible? Maybe it was his proximity to her, his face just inches away from her own. 

By now Sherlock’s room had become a hurricane of flying papers as Sherlock tossed them through the air to find the correct one. All of them black and white, it was situations like these that made him thankful for his more than competent mind palace to remember exactly what the sheet of paper looked like. Ultimately he felt defeated, maybe Molly was right in that he should be more organised. He left the room in more of mess than it was when he entered, preparing to tell Mr. St. Clair the information by memory although the pictures would have to be seen at a later date until Sherlock find them. 

He was met with an empty, silent sitting room, curiously he walked further into the room, suspicious at to Molly and Mr. St. Clair’s whereabouts. A clatter from the kitchen alerted his attention where he found Mr. St. Clair awfully too close for anyone’s liking. Rage surged through Sherlock like a white hot iron cast brand. He observed Molly’s rigid body language, Mr. St. Clair’s arm wrapped around her with the other resting on her cheek. He wanted nothing more to rip Mr. St. Clair away from her and beat him until he was breathing through a machine. 

Before anything it could begin with Molly and Mr. St. Clair, it thankfully ended by Sherlock clearing his throat behind them. The awkward silence from before became tense within milliseconds. 

Molly looked like a deer caught in headlights, mouth open in shock, doe like eyes round, terrified, yet at the same time sorry and completely grateful to Sherlock. She looked at him as her saviour, she and Sherlock dreaded to think what could have happened if they were left one second longer. Molly let out a shaky breath and Mr. St. Clair released her from his grimy hands. Sherlock's hands clenched into fists. She wasn’t sure what he would do next, she was afraid, she knew just how capable Sherlock was. 

“Mr. St. Clair may I remind you that your husband, a male partner, who you have committed to under the eyes of god is missing and Molly is a female and not your beloved and not missing.” Sherlock lashing out every word with precise pronunciation. 

Mr. St. Clair gave a cocky unforgiving smile and took a step back away from the now less fear stricken Molly. She took this as her cue and crossed the kitchen over to Sherlock and stood behind him. She tried her best to steady her breathing and her rapidly beating heart. She felt foolish. She felt like nothing. Something as small as this man’s actions had reduced her to nothing, to this paralytic mute! She looked up at Sherlock, all he had to do was clear his throat and it was over, the power he had over people was immense. 

“I have misplaced the evidence, not that you seem to be that interested in finding your husband after all, so I must ask you to leave before my entire knife draw slips my fingers.” 

Nothing else was said the only thing that was heard was Mr. St. Clair’s heavy footsteps on the hard wooden floor as he left and shut the door behind him. Silence. Molly let out a big breath as if she had been holding it all the while, she made her way to the chair steadying herself as she slowly lowered herself down. Dear Molly what did you get yourself into? Did she lead him on? After all he was very smiley yesterday. She pressed her hands to her cheeks in a small attempt of comfort. Sherlock was still standing, staring at the door, hands still clenched. 

“Sherlock…” She whispered, she didn’t know what to say. “Sherlock I…” 

“Are you alright Molly?” 

She gave a meek nod in response not quite knowing the answer. Physically yes she was fine, emotionally she was a bit of a wreck. “Yes, Sherlock.”

“Right. Good.” And with that he left, returning to the solidarity of his bedroom. Molly shook her head as her fingers knotted together. It seems like that was all to be said on the matter then. What had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this has not been beta'd so please do forgive me for any mistakes and let me know! I would like to say thank you so much to those of you who left comments and kudos, your encouragement is lovely and just for that I felt I had to give you the next chapter since you seemed to really like it! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This hasn't been beta'd (I really must get someone soon) so do excuse any mistakes, please let me know if you see any or have any constructive criticism. Also any encouragement would be welcomed warmly, just to let me know if i'm going in the right track or not. Thank you!


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